Hints at abuse.
Barnaby brings in the mail. I'm not surprised to find another Howler. Although I haven't received as many as before. After the end of the war.
I ignore it choosing to pick up the Daily Prophet and browse the gossip column of the Daily Prophet. At least it's not another death threat. Or at least I don't think it is. Just like the others that have come in recent months I don't bother opening it. Besides, it's nice to have some color against the aged parchment baring the word Blood Traitor in bold script. Those are just as annoying as the few letters I received, and on the rare occasion, still receive of gratitude.
Well, those three letters were of great annoyance. All singing my bravery and the courage it took being a lone woman to stand against the Dark Lord. One of them was from Mr. Potter. No surprise there, Another was from a young student of Hogwarts, their name fails me at the moment. Rather, I didn't bother to read it as the name of another letter had captured my attention.
That last letter was from the one and only Ms. Hermione Granger.
The young woman had been too kind since the end of the war. Since her torture only a few short feet from where I sit now. It's only been two years but her and Potter still sing my praises. But their kind words were more than that. They were a life line. It was one that I could extend to Draco as well. Whether knowingly or not the two did a press tour on my behalf exornating me of any misdeeds. Whether knowingly or not they kept Draco out of Azkaban, and unfortuantely, Lucius away from the Dementor's kiss although he was required to serve the remaining six months of his term.
Hmm, there's another article about the Boy Who Lived and Conquered he is head of the Auror office. From the way Lucius sighs I can tell he's seen it too. He doesn't speak much. No more than one or two words at time; at least to me since that evening two years ago. I have to give it to him. This is the longest he has lasted at something. He clears his throat maybe the tide is about to turn and the great Malfoy Patriarch will bestow upon me a few words this morning.
"I wish you would have told me what you were going to do, I could have helped."
Ahh, finally the true problem is revealed and so is the root of his mood. He wasn't in on it, I have to remind him there was no it, and I doubt he would have helped. He has no claim to any of the glory. That hasn't gone over well.
"It wasn't planned Lucius."
He sucks his teeth; he doesn't believe me.
"Are you sure? Were you colluding with the Order; working against me?" His eyebrows are raised. He looks affronted.
I chuckle I am not sure why I stay in this marriage. I have every reason to leave no judge would deny the request no matter what pureblood tradition states the old ways died with the Dark Lord and I can't say that I am displeased.
I place my tea cup on the saucer, "you seem upset. If I hadn't done what I did you nor Draco would be here." I deliver the blow softly. It's been a while since I have bared the brunt of his rage even with Draco present I can't be to sure. With Lucius it's best to tread carefully.
Lucius's dark grey eyes bore into mine. I refuse to squirm under his gaze. I'm a different woman than I was before the war. But I notice the slight shuffle. He's uncomfortable with the truth and I watch out my peripheral as Draco shifts his weight from one leg to the other as he stands looking out the window pretending not to hear. His nonchalent attitude is faltering.
"But the simple answer to your questions are no."
He huffs closing the paper. Lucius thinks I'm lying; oh the irony. I have endured his lies and brutality over the years.
"I..." he pushes back his chair and stands, "we are leaving, we shall return in a couple of weeks." He looks over at Draco snapping his fingers.
"Let's go," he whispers harshly.
I am concerned.
I have heard rumblings of a man ravaging his way through Istanbul. Their wizarding community is scattered seeking refuge from this madman a supposed disciple of the Dark Lord. Someone to carry on his work. Naturally, I am fearful this is how it began with the first war and subsequently the second. Another deranged man taking up the mantle Grindlewald left behind. I stand.
"Where are you going?" I ask as calmly as I can. I am still afraid of setting him off.
"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to Narcissa." Lucius glares at me.
"No, Draco you will not go," I won't let him be carried down this road. Not again.
"Mother we'll be fine. We just want to..."
"Quiet!" Lucius turns a hard gaze on him before returning focus back to me.
"Your mother is liable to go to the Ministry or the Order. Well, what's left of them anyway," he chuckles, "grab your bags."
Draco only offers a sad smile before he's off toward the second floor.
"Like I said we will be gone a few weeks, don't worry yourself. Enjoy your tea Narcissa, and your glory while you can." He sneers at me before spinning on his heels following the path Draco just took.
A chill runs through me but I obey taking my seat. I won't mention this to anyone. There is no one.
I feel like a pariah as the sea of bodies part leaving a jagged path for me to float down. I continue forward clutching the shopping bags a little tighter an old habit of mine. I feel powerless at the moment like an outcast and I pick up the pace as the death threats start to run through my mind.
Are they here? Will they kill me in the middle of the street?
I'm jarred from my thoughts when my shoulder collides with something firm but soft. I drop the bags digging at my sleeve for my wand. The long slender wood was pointed downward into the fair face of none other than Hermione Granger.
I quickly return it to my sleeve. The last thing I need is a photo of me with my wand drawn on the Golden Girl. Everyone's favorite Muggleborn. The Ministiry could have picked a better poster child is they brewed her up themselves.
She stooped down to pick up my shopping and I kneeled as well slightly embarrassed as I took the items out of her hand. The last was a book as she held it out of reach as she read the title a wide smile forming on her lips.
"Hmm, this is one of my favorites. Is it yours?" She asks handing the book back to me as if she was handling a new born. I am momentarily stunned. I don't know of anyone especially a woman I speculate barely twenty years of age to have read, understood and enjoyed Bridget Bishop's The Age of Potions.
"Yes," I remember myself and answer straightening out my robe as I stand. I place the book back in its satin satchel.
"You should be careful, you are caring around precious cargo," she teases jokingly nodding at the satchel.
I chuckle, "maybe to only you and myself. I doubt if there are few who have read it much less know what it is or its significance. Other than Severus." I sigh in joy glad my old friend made it through. He was hiding out at Hogwarts under Minerva's care and motherly gaze.
"Is that an original?" She bounces on the balls of her feet; I can tell she is excited. Oddly, this makes me happy.
"I am afraid not Ms. Granger. I had an original but it got ruined when the death ea-" I trail off unsure if I should bring up anything referencing the hell that was the last two years.
Her excitement has not waned and she finishes, "death eaters and the Dark Lord took over your home."
"Yes; several things were destroyed or taken I am not sure which. I only know they are gone."
"Pity." She's staring at me with an expression I cannot place. She's searching my face for what I cannot begin to fathom, but I can't help to let my eyes roam over her body. She's filled out deliciously and a heat stirs in my belly. A wave of shame soon follows. This child is the same age as my son.
Her honey colored eyes land on the other bags in my hand.
"What else did you get from Wormwood's Book Shop?"
She's looking at me expectantly the fall breeze lightly whipping her hair. That same smile from before is plastered across her face causing me to mimic hers by returning one of my own. Hermione is absolutely beautiful.
"I could tell you over coffee or tea," I blurt out before I realize what I have just suggested. I clinch the handles tighter expecting her to say no. Although I have been exonerated I am still the wife of an infamous Death Eater. I am sure there is no way she would want to be seen with me. My shoulders start to droop of their own accord. I don't know why but I can't help but feel deflated, and well, defeated.
The silence is maddening and I attempt to stave off the sting of rejection, "I'm sorry Ms. Granger I am sure you have other things to do." I'm nervous and I expect a harsh put down or for a reminder that it was my sister that tortured and scarred her.
Her smile only widens, "no Mrs. Malfoy, I do haven't anything else planned and I would love to get coffee or tea. Maybe lunch if you like?"
I swallow. She's nervous.
"Narcissa please," I don't like being reminded that I belong to that man, "yes, I like lunch better."
"I am Hermione then, and I like lunch much better as well."
She moves to stand beside me and offers her elbow. I stare at it a moment before taking it my hand resting just above where her quarter sleeve ends and tan firm flesh begins.
We drop into a little cafe. Naturally, all eyes are on us. I play my usual cards. Aloofness. Coldness. Hermione simply appears to not care. She has a self-assurance that I don't possess even at the tender age of forty-two, and would kill to obtain.
The young man guides us to a table near the back but out in the open and once we are seated the whispers start. I am beginning to think this was a bad idea but her calmness has an effect on me. I soon tune out the noise.
Hermione's POV
I can tell she is uncomfortable. Although the signs are blatantly obvious. That's if you don't know the signs you would miss them. She does an excellent job of hiding her uneasiness. Normally, I would be uneasy as well. I am still not comfortable with having all eyes of me. Being dubbed a war heroine has not helped my anxiety, but I am willing to be strong for her. She makes me want to be strong and protect her. She looks like someone who wasn't protected a lot. If at all.
This leads me to speculate some rather nasty things. Especially where her husband is concerned. I will be sure to ask about her marriage when the proper moment presents itself.
Narcissa's POV
That same pensive look from before is back. I am left wondering what is she thinking. But once the tea is out, she inquires about my little shopping trip. I pull out the other books and her hand instantly goes to her mouth. She reaches for the top of the stack. Another book on potions. One on wandless magic.
Her excitement is so intoxicating that I want to grab her hand. I want to touch her. I wished Draco had been this way about learning maybe he had before Lucius started with his doctrine of nonsense. I quickly squash any thought of my husband. I don't want to mingle the filth of him with the purity of her presence.
I want her to have all of me. All of my attention is on her.
Conversation flows freely, and before I know it we are laughing. I haven't enjoyed the company of someone in a long time. The nosey patrons forgotten. As time passes, she dominates the foreground. In this hour and a half Hermione has become my world.
The mid-day meal has come to an end and we both argue over who pays. She ultimately wins out and we both exit still giggling. A small smile of satisfaction of her pink full lips an out of place smirk on mine.
"I'll pay next time Hermione. I insist." Once again the words tumble out of my mouth before I have a chance to run them through a filter. I fear I have overstepped and mistaken her kindness for something else as the statement silences us both.
"Next time?" She asks her gaze fixed to mine as we block the side walk. I do the most un-lady like thing I have ever done and gulp. Her gaze drops to my neck before once again returning to mine.
"How about dinner? Will this Friday work?"
I take in a deep breath. I just realized I had forgotten how to breathe.
"Friday is perfect." Once again my mouth moves faster than my brain.
"Great, I'll owl a place tomorrow afternoon," Hermione's smile fades.
My nerves are back, "it's okay if you can't make Friday, some other time." I toss. Giving her an out. Trying not to sound as let down as I am.
"No, Friday is perfect beyond perfect actually. I am not seeing anyone and my Friday nights are spent reading as the dating market is trash at the moment. I live alone so, umm, sorry. It's just your husband and Draco. Will they be alright with me owling you?"
Relief.
"No. I mean it doesn't matter. They are out of town. On business or something. They don't tell me anything. Lucius barely speaks to me and usually my nights are spent reading or painting or whatever I can find to pass the time. So, please owl. I have my own owl as well we don't share anything. Lucius and I," I chuckle, "we haven't shared a bed in four years." I catch myself, I am not sure why I told her that.
She only nods at this revelation.
We make our good byes. I watch smiling as she gave a small wave and disapparated. I stare at the vacant spot a moment before heading down Diagon Alley.
I slip into a little boutique and buy a new dress along with a pair of stilettos. I will look my best for her and leave the store on a high.
Friday cannot come soon enough.